


what if i said i knew you

by Cronomon



Series: Highgarden Flower Shop [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:52:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cronomon/pseuds/Cronomon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For someone allergic to pollen Sansa sure visits the flower shop a lot. Not that Margaery minds. That is, until Margaery begins to experience memories that aren't hers, remembering days that never happened, and all of them center around one Sansa Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Margaery raised her eyebrows. “Really?” she prompted.

Sansa, dressed rather adorably in a summery flower-imprinted dress, immediately avoided her gaze.

Somewhat sadistically enjoying her discomfort, Margaery crossed her arms against her chest and leaned back against the shop’s counter, making herself comfortable.

“ _Really_?” she said again, purposely drawling out the word.

“What?” Sansa muttered defensively.

Margaery’s heart tugged and she almost found herself wanting to wrap her arms around the other girl protectively, to reassure her that she was only teasing and didn’t mean anything by it...

Almost.

But where was the fun in that?

“I thought we agreed to meet at the restaurant,” Margaery said instead.

Sansa sniffed. Margaery instinctively reached behind to grab a tissue from the box sitting next to the register, but Sansa had already pulled one out from a handy packet she kept in her purse.

She blew her nose. Margaery waited patiently and gestured to the waste basket nearby.

“We did,” Sansa finally agreed.

“And I thought it was established that you are, in fact, very much allergic to pollen,” Margaery added as soon as she’d heard the answer.

Sansa paused. She scrunched up her nose.

 _Adorable!_ Margaery thought just before Sansa let out an enormous sneeze.

This time Margaery did offer the tissue box.

“I am,” Sansa confirmed once she’d thrown away a handful of tissues. She was looking at the floor, an almost guilty expression on her face, although once every few seconds she would cautiously look up at Margaery only to slip her gaze back to her feet once she realized the older girl was watching her.

Margaery smiled at the sheer cuteness of it all.

“So why are you here?” she asked, this time in a much gentler tone. Then, “You do realize that this is a flower shop, don’t you?”

Sansa’s ears flamed and she looked up, mouth open in exclamation, but then bit back her protest when she saw Margaery’s smirk. Her eyes narrowed, and she shuffled her feet a bit before lifting her head high and replying,

“I just thought it’d be… fitting. For a first… date. To pick you up.”

Her obvious hesitations between phrases took away some of the impact, but it was the thought that counted in the end anyway.

Margaery laughed and reached out to take Sansa’s arm, looping her own under it so their elbows were interlocked.

“How very chivalrous of you,” she told the other girl. “I’m touched, truly.”

Sansa didn’t respond but did seem somewhat comforted by Margaery’s words.

“Now,” the florist went on, “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. And the air here does seem a bit stuffier than usual, doesn’t it?” She didn’t wait for a response, only continuing with a half smile, “Shall we go?”

*~*~*

The more Margaery watched her, the more she realized that Sansa Stark did seem incredibly familiar.

More than just seeing her walk past the store (perhaps one too many times to be truly subtle) before their official meeting. More than just the sense of easiness and comfort she felt whenever she spoke to her (even though they’d really only spoken about three times so far). There was just a feeling of… knowing.

She wondered what she might say to Sansa about this, if she should say anything to Sansa about this, how Sansa might react if she said anything about this to her.

_No big deal, but I feel like I’ve known you longer than I’ve been alive here. Suppose we’ve met before in another life?_

How about no.

Margaery supposed it didn’t matter that much anyway. Not yet, at least.

Right now she wanted to enjoy this life with Sansa, what they might have together someday, what they could be starting now.

Right now she wanted to go to that restaurant and eat dinner with Sansa, and talk with Sansa, and learn more about Sansa, and tease Sansa, and maybe afterwards go on a walk with Sansa, sit in the park with Sansa, think about how overwhelming cliche the whole thing was with Sansa, and then maybe she could even kiss Sansa.

She wanted to ignore the dark, empty ache in her chest that accompanied the familiarity of Sansa Stark.

*~*~*

The next morning, Loras bumped shoulders with Margaery as he passed by, almost making her drop the vase of lilies she’d been carrying.

“Loras,” she glowered before carefully setting down the vase between the shelf of tulips and the bench covered with pots of orchids.

“So how’d it _go_?” he asked teasingly, ignoring her glare. He was inspecting the daffodils but still found it necessary to toss a smirk at her over his shoulder.

Margaery rolled her eyes and headed over to the snapdragons to check up on them. “It was fun,” she told him honestly. “We ate. We talked. Did you know her favorite food is lemon cakes? That’s just so _her_ , isn’t it? There’s a bakery near here, do you think they sell lemon cakes? I might get her one next time.”

Obviously bored by her previous fluff, Loras pounced on her last statement. “So there is a next time?” he questioned.

“Yes, there is a next time,” she stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m not that awful, you know.”

Her brother only shrugged and said, “Of course, you’re as charming as they come, dear sister.”

Margaery flicked water at him. He flinched away.

“Not the hair,” he protested, hands rising instinctively.

“It’s just a few drops, don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not being a baby.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

Silence fell over the shop once again as the siblings completed their rounds with the flowers and then, deeming everything acceptable, retreated to the back room for a cup of coffee.

“So did you kiss her?”

“I wish.”

Loras gave a mock gasp, clamping a hand on his chest dramatically. “Do you mean to say that my sister, Margaery Tyrell, queen of lesbians and maybe bisexuals too, _didn’t_ kiss a girl she very obviously fancies on their first date?”

“Did you just call me the queen of lesbians?”

“And maybe bisexuals too.”

Margaery retreated to her coffee. “You suck.”

Loras waved a hand dismissively. “Seriously though. It’s not like you’ve ever been scared to kiss a girl.”

“Obviously,” Margaery replied. “I am the queen of lesbians, after all.”

“So?”

“I don’t know….” Now, Margaery was hesitant.

Yes, the previous night had been excellent. Dinner was great, she’d managed to make Sansa laugh and Sansa had genuinely made her laugh as well. She’d learned about Sansa’s enormous family (four siblings plus their cousin and brother’s best friend?!) and things she liked (dogs, fairy tales, poetry, songs) and things she disliked (most of them seemed to just be her little sister doing things to annoy her) and all in all it had been wonderful.

Until Margaery had plucked the fake rose in the vase sitting at their table and offered it to Sansa at the end of the meal.

It wasn’t that Sansa had rejected it. On the contrary, Sansa had accepted it graciously, the most beautiful smile Margaery had ever seen blossoming on her face.

And then Margaery had been reminded of a day that had never happened.

A bright day, a sunny day, where she and Sansa had walked together in the Baratheon gardens. But it wasn’t the Baratheon gardens as they were now. And Margaery hadn’t been wearing clothes that were her own. And she was almost certain Sansa did not own such long, elegant dresses that looked to be from medieval times either. They had been talking about something (Margaery was almost tempted to think _marriage_ but that was impossible) and Sansa had looked so miserable (so much more miserable than Margaery could bear to see on such a pretty girl) and Margaery had offered Sansa a rose (a _real_ rose since apparently that Sansa wasn’t allergic) and then…

And then Margaery had returned to the restaurant. Returned to her own time, where the two of them were nibbling on the remains of their lemon cakes, and Sansa was happy, and wearing normal clothes, and pleased with the fake rose.

“Loras,” Margaery said instead. “Do you get the feeling that we’ve met Sansa before? A long time ago?”

Loras looked at her oddly. “I don’t think so,” he responded, not questioning his sister’s unusual avoidance of his previous question. “I’m pretty sure I’d never met her until she came in for the interview. Why? Do you?”

Margaery shrugged. “No. Not really. Never mind.” Then she paused. Considered. Why shouldn’t she tell Loras? She told him everything else. Granted, none of the other things had been as strange as this...

But just then a customer came in, successfully distracting her brother and leaving Margaery to wonder on her own.

*~*~*

“I think I freaked her out,” Sansa confessed.

Robb slurped down his orange soda noisily.

“Robb.”

He put down his soda. “Yes?”

“I think I freaked Margaery out.”

“Why do you think so?”

“I just… I don’t know, I just do.”

Robb nodded slowly. Took another sip of soda.

“Oh, never mind, it’s different with you and Theon,” Sansa muttered. “You’ve been fancying each other since you were five.”

“That is only kind of true,” Robb replied. “Theon was always popular with girls on the playground, you know. He didn’t even seem to care that we’d made arrangements to play in the sandbox one day because he just up and ditched me to go hang out with some girl on the monkey bars. He doesn’t even like monkey bars! Can you imagine?"

“Robb. We’re not in kindergarten anymore.”

“Well, obviously, but you went and got me started about it-.”

“Can you just sit there and listen to my problems like a good older brother?”

Robb rolled his eyes and drank more soda.

“I mean, we had a great time, I think,” Sansa went on as though the detour had never happened. “She laughed at my jokes, and not in the way you and Mum and Dad do to make me feel better. I think she actually thought I was funny.”

“You are funny. Sometimes.”

“Robb.”

“Shutting up.”

Sansa continued, “And she seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. She didn’t even care if I did something silly or messed up.”

“That’s good,” Robb offered.

“Yes, but then, you see, at the end… She suddenly seemed to space out. And when she came back everything was suddenly so forced.” Sansa dipped her head at the memory, focusing instead on the napkin on her lap. “She was still nice, of course, but suddenly it just seemed as though she was… trying too hard. And rushing. You know?”

Robb only nodded, waiting for his sister to continue

“And we made arrangements to meet up again but, I don’t know, I don’t want to force her if she doesn’t like me or didn’t have a good time….”

Robb tilted his head curiously. “If she doesn’t like you why would she have agreed to go out with you again?” he asked.

Sansa shook her head. “I don’t know. She’s just… She’s so nice, and lovely, she might just not wanted to have hurt my feelings or something.”

“If that’s true she would have ended things quickly,” Robb said. “Said something like, oh, I had a wonderful time, but I don’t think it will work out between us. If she’s as nice and lovely as you say that would be the least she could’ve done.”

“Maybe.”

“I’m serious.”

“But still.”

“When are you meeting her again?”

“Tomorrow.”

“That soon?”

“Is it that soon?”

Robb laughed. “Sansa, that is very soon. If she agreed to that she must like you very much.”

Sansa brightened immediately. “You think so?”

“Well, it’s just your humble older brother’s opinion, but yes. I do think so.”

“Are you sure? Usually you’re awful with advice and things like this, but you actually sound kind of reliable right now.”

“Should I take offense at that?” Robb shot her a mock glare. “Careful, Sansa, the fact that you’re asking me for advice and not some close friend of yours must mean you’re _truly_ desperate… It’d be awful if Arya got hold of this information, wouldn’t it?”

Sansa’s jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t! Robb!”

“Pay for my meal and we might be able to work something out.”

“You’re awful.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Fancy seeing you here again,” Margaery greeted when Sansa entered the shop again later that evening.

Sansa smiled, looking pretty as ever, even with her red eyes and stuffy nose. “What can I say? I just can’t stay away.” She leaned on the counter, stifling back a cough in the most graceful way Margaery had ever seen.

Margaery handed the tissue box to Sansa, who accepted it gratefully.

“Why, Sansa Stark,” Margaery grinned wolfishly, “are you flirting with me?”

Sansa blushed, immediately reverting back to the shy, younger girl Margaery had grown accustomed to over the past couple of days.

“I mean. Maybe a little.”

“Margaery is the queen of lesbians!” Loras yelled from the backroom.

Sansa blinked.

Margaery smiled charmingly. “Ignore him.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Margaery’s gaze drew to the top of Sansa’s head, and she let out a soft, “Oh.” Reaching over, she smoothed out a tuft of red that had been sticking up slightly on Sansa’s head. Sansa squeaked softly and Margaery looked at her fondly.

“Am I overstepping my boundaries?” Margaery asked, still running her fingers through the long, sleek hair.

“No. Not at all.”

“I’m glad. Your hair is very pretty.” Margaery brought her other hand to Sansa’s head. “Do you mind if I braid it? You would look good with a braid, I think.”

Sansa swallowed. “Oh," she said again.

Margaery took it as consent and proceeded to twist the locks of hair quickly and easily. Sansa remained standing, not daring to move lest she somehow mess up Margaery’s work.

For a long while they stood in silence, Margaery focused on her braiding and Sansa trying not to stare at Margaery’s breasts for too long. It was harder than she would’ve liked to admit. Margaery’s breasts were pretty fantastic, and the dress the florist was wearing only accentuated that fact.

_Seven hells, I’m turning into Jon when he’s around Ygritte._

“Is there a reason you’ve come again?”

Margaery’s question broke Sansa out of her thoughts, and brought her gaze back up to Margaery’s eyes, only to have Margaery gently push her head down again lest the braid get messed up.

Well, talking to Margaery’s breasts it was.

Mustering up all her courage, Sansa answered, “I can’t just want to see the cute florist who works here?”

Margaery laughed (and wow those breasts) and said, “I’m flattered. But honestly.” There was a strain in her voice that reminded Sansa of the previous night at the end of dinner. And then, right on target, “Is this about last night?”

Sansa held her breath.

“I’m sorry if you didn’t have a good time,” Margaery went on. “I… I wasn’t feeling well at the end of it, and I apologize if that ruined things for you. But if it’s alright with you, I would like it very much if we… didn’t cancel our plans for tomorrow.”

“It’s not you!” Sansa burst out, jerking her head up before she realized what she was doing. When her hair fell back down, untwisting itself from the braid Margaery had made, she remembered. “Oh. I- I’m so sorry, I always mess things up… I just. It’s not you. I mean. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Margaery was looking at her, a carefully blank expression on her face. Sansa felt her own face heat up (gods, she hated it it when it did that) but she forced herself to keep going.

“I didn’t come here to ask to cancel our plans,” she said. “I just… I really did want to see you. I had a wonderful time last night. I’m sorry that you weren’t feeling well, and I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I wasn’t happy, but if you think you’re feeling any better by tomorrow I would be delighted if we could still do something together.”

Margaery’s eyes were still unreadable.

I fucked up, Sansa thought.

“And… I’m sorry I ruined the braid.”

No response.

“And… that… I’m allergic to pollen and still trying to go out with you even though you work with flowers every day?”

Finally, a smile. Margaery had the most beautiful smile in the world, in Sansa’s opinion. Especially when she showed her teeth. They were very nice teeth. Sansa wondered what it’d feel like running her tongue over them.

“You’re cute,” Margaery told her, leaning in close so that their noses brushed slightly. “Very noble, too.” She flashed another smile. “Thank you. Truly.”

Sansa suddenly became very aware of how lovely Margaery’s eyes were. Deep brown and so wise, much wiser than she would think for someone only a few years older than she. Margaery also had a nice nose. Sansa liked when it touched her nose. Margaery also had a very, very nice looking mouth.

Sansa licked her lips almost subconsciously.

Then Margaery kissed her.

It was a gentle kiss, a soft one, and lingering. Just long enough for Sansa to feel the drop of disappointment when Margaery pulled away, and for the rush of panic and embarrassment when Sansa remembered how watery her eyes were and how runny her nose was, and that must’ve been just awful for Margaery, no wonder she’d pulled away, and now Sansa might never be kissed again and she was going to die alone and friendless and-.

“You’re blushing again,” Margaery commented.

“I’m allergic and gross,” Sansa blurted out.

Margaery looked amused. “Allergic, yes. Gross, never.”

Sansa stuttered for a moment. Then, “Margaery Tyrell, are you flirting with me?”

“I thought that was obvious.” Margaery arched an eyebrow, grinned, and leaned in to kiss her again.

*~*~*

That night, Margaery dreamed of a castle. It was magnificent, just the way castles always looked in storybooks about knights and princesses; towers reaching to the sky, glorious arches and beautiful courtyards and gardens. But she could not admire its beauty for long.

She found herself in a throneroom suddenly. There was a blonde boy with cruel eyes and a hard mouth, and a group of knights before him, and spectators all around. What was happening? What was everyone watching?

And then she saw Sansa. Young, sweet Sansa (her Sansa, with the most genuine smile and the laugh that could probably cure cancer; her Sansa whom she’d eaten and laughed with, whose hair she’d braided, whom she’d kissed over the counter) crying and flinching when the knights beat her with mailed fists and tore her clothes half off.

She watched just as everyone else in the room watched.

The blonde boy laughed, and Margaery looked at him.

 _I’ll kill you_ , she promised silently, and though it was her own thought, at the same time it just wasn’t. But whose else could it have been?

Margaery looked back at Sansa (but was this her Sansa?) and stared as a dwarf came to her rescue.

_I won’t let it happen again. I’ll protect you. I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe forever._

Then the scene changed.

The castle was gone, with only blackened ruins to show that anything had once been there at all. The sky was dark and the air thick with smoke. People were screaming, and bodies were dropping everywhere.

Margaery was there but at the same time not.

She was in a room, alone, awaiting judgement that she realized would never come.

But judgement for what? She hadn’t done anything wrong. She was innocent. This wasn’t right.

In the distance, Margaery heard the screech of dragons.

*~*~*

“Someone looks out of it today,” Loras commented over their morning cup of coffee.

Margaery shrugged. “Rough night. Bad dreams.”

“Aw. Wanna talk about it?”

“No. It’s okay.”

Margaery had never thought much about her family’s history. The Tyrells were a fairly old family with just enough money that people knew of their existence, but they weren’t anything big and grand like the Baratheons or the Lannisters. Margaery had also always figured she was the only Margaery Tyrell in her family’s history. So maybe there was a chance that some great-great-great-great-great grandmother had also been a Margaery, but if there had been she certainly had never made any lasting impact.

Yet despite this there was one thing Margaery was sure of. Somewhere, at some point, in some world, some Margaery Tyrell had met some Sansa Stark.

And for whatever reason, she was experiencing that Margaery Tyrell’s memories.


End file.
